


Partner Yoga

by skywardseanna17



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eventual Smut, M/M, Not finished yet, Personal Trainer Dean, Yoga Instructor Castiel, dont look at me im total trash, just like everything i do lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:25:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5223278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywardseanna17/pseuds/skywardseanna17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's a personal trainer, currently crashing in his brother Sam's apartment. Sam wants to try out a yoga class with Dean at the fitness center dean works at.Dean agrees, b/c his brother doesnt ask for much from him and he's been feeling distant from Sam lately, but it turns out this class may have been a bit more than Dean expected. Dean basically has no flexibility or understanding of yoga and humiliates himself in front of the cute yoga instructor. Tropey and gross.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partner Yoga

**Author's Note:**

> such trash i havent updated my other fic in so long i am so sorry everyone/anyone who read it i may come back to it over break but its been so long that ive forgotten where I was going with that plot
> 
> smut will happen soonish probably maybe after next chapter 
> 
> feedback much appreciate

“Come on, Donna, let’s pick up the pace, okay?” Dean called to his client. Donna Hanscum huffed something about how she was going to put her personal trainer in a headlock. Dean grinned, checking the tiny silver stopwatch he was timing her with.

“Winchester... as soon as I’m...done with this mile--”

“Almost there!” Dean called, interrupting her. His voice echoed across the indoor track.“Seven minutes, Donna, seven minutes, here we go!”

Donna crossed the white line marking the mile she had run, and Dean pumped the air with his fist.

“Six twenty-two, baby. Looks like you’re gonna pass that test for the police academy.” Dean said, sticking his arm out for a fist bump.

Donna bumped him back, doubling over and breathing heavily. Dean fought not to chuckle. He had been training Donna for a month now, prepping the blonde woman for her upcoming exam. If everything went well, Donna was going to be a cop. And Dean had faith in the woman, even if she was less confident in herself even after a month with Free-Will Fitness’ highest-rated personal trainer.

“Do you think that’s good enough to pass?”

“I think you’ll do fine,” Dean said, passing Donna a bright blue FWF water bottle. “By no means should you stop working out--”

“Nah, I think I’ll just roll on down to the Krispy Kreme shop on first street now, become a real cop with the donuts and coffee and all.” Donna said, her Minnesotan accent coloring every word as she punched Dean's bicep jokingly.

Dean nodded, following Donna up the stairs to the first level of the fitness center and leaving the underground track behind. He nodded to a few of the gym-rat regulars before checking his phone.

New message from Sam: Meet you in the cafe?

Dean texted his brother back, telling him that he’d be there in a few minutes.

“When do you go in for your test?” Dean asked, following Donna into the main lobby of the fitness center. They both waved at the teen manning the front desk, Kevin, who constantly had one earbud in and another hanging over the collar of his FWF t-shirt.  

“I have an interview on Tuesday. If everything goes well, they’ll tell me when they want me to start actual training and stuff.”

“Then the donuts.”

Donna smiled, her eyes wide. God, Dean was so fucking proud of her. She had hardly been able to finish a mile when he had met her. The girl had worked hard, every session, to get to where she was now. And unlike some of the gym rats Dean worked with, Donna actually put in the time between sessions to get to her under-seven minute mile. She had a goal, she knew what it was, and she would do anything to achieve it. Dean respected that.

He gave the woman one final good-luck thumbs-up as she pushed her way through the revolving glass doors, her ponytail bouncing with every step. He shook his head, making his way towards the new cafe that had just recently gone up inside FWF. Sam loved the cafe, and spent his money there every time he wound up at the fitness center. Which had been often, recently. Dean’s brother had just recently landed a job in the law firm across the street, and came by Salt ‘n Burn cafe every morning and afternoon before the brothers finished for the day. Dean was currently crashing in Sam's two-bedroom apartment anyway after his landlord found asbestos in Dean’s walls, so Dean didn't mind giving his brother a lift to and from work every day.

Dean stepped into the cafe, letting the warm light and cozy atmosphere wash over him. Gabriel, one of the managers and co-owners of the fitness complex, had gone all out with decorating the cafe: Salt n' Burn boasted red hardwood tables and floors, thick, plush, earthy-colored rugs, and a fireplace against one wall. The cafe's atmosphere was striking when compared to the silvery-steel architecture that dominated the rest of the fitness complex.

Dean caught sight of his brother lounging in the corner booth he had recently claimed as his own, dressed in his nicest three piece monkey suit. The younger Winchester waved his brother over, his eyebrows furrowed. Sam was focused on a catalogue he had laid out on the table, two bright blue mugs sharing the tablespace with the FWF winter newsletter. Dean sat down across from his brother with a sigh.

“Hey, dude.” Sam said, passing Dean one of the mugs.

“Hey. What’d you get?”

“I was feelin’ chai tea. I figured you’d want your usual black coffee,” Sam said, taking a sip from his mug. “I told the barista not to put anything crazy in it, but she kept going on and on about how it was going to snow tonight and if you weren’t going to have hot cocoa you should at least have a bit of dark chocolate or something in there, so be warned.”

Dean cast a glance over at the girl running the counter. It was Charlie, Gabe’s newest hire and co-manager of the coffee shop. The only reason she was co-manager was because she was the only employee other than Gabriel himself. He had only talked to the girl a few times, but Dean liked her. She was quirky and always asked him how his day was, and had seemed surprised the first time he asked her how hers was going.

“Not too many people ask the barista how their day is going, you know?” Charlie had said. “At least, not unless they’re hitting on them.”

Dean had chuckled.

Charlie made a face. “Wait, you’re not hitting on me, are you? Because I like girls.”

“Oh my god, you’re like at least ten years younger than me. And me too. Like girls, I mean. Well, dudes too. I’m not picky. But I wasn’t hitting on you. Promise.”

Charlie had rolled her eyes. “It’s fine, I believe you. Don’t hurt yourself.”

Ever since their awkward but friendly exchange, Dean and Charlie had shared some end-of-shift coffee chats and, Dean had to admit, he was warming up to the barista.

“Dean, did you hear what I just said?”

“Sorry,” Dean said, blinking. Sam shook his head. Dean knew that his brother was used to him spacing out. “Run that by me again, Sambo.”

“Don’t--whatever. I was saying I’m thinking about taking a yoga class here.”

Dean almost grimaced as he sipped his coffee. Charlie was right. That dark chocolate was killer. “Yoga? You’re that much of a hippie?”

Sam shrugged. “I’ve taken a couple of classes before, back when I was at Stanford and stuff, and I figure I’m getting kind of stiff. Looks like you guys are offering a new class.”

Sam passed Dean the catalogue of classes, tapping a little body of text.

“‘Advanced Ashtanga’?”  Dean stared at his brother, unblinking. “You’re serious?”

Sam nodded, bouncing an eyebrow. “Yeah. Wanna do it with me?”

“Now you’ve really lost it.”

“What? Hear me out,” Sam pleaded. “Yoga is crazy good for you. I know you think you’re the epitome of health, but I bet you can’t even touch your toes.”

“That is--that is a groundless accusation--”

Sam shook his head. “Shut up. No judgement here. But you know, it’d be fun, and yoga works you emotionally, spiritually, and physically. You might even learn something you can put to use in your training sessions with the ‘roiders.”

‘They’re not all ‘roiders,” Dean grumbled.

Sam chugged back the rest of his chai tea, setting the empty mug down on the table. “You’re probably right. But I think you could learn a lot from a yoga class.”

Dean sucked a breath in through his teeth. Sam didn’t ask him for a lot, and he knew yoga wasn’t anywhere near Dean’s realm of interest, or even tolerance. But his brother wanted to spend time with him. And he was right, there probably were some stretches he hadn’t seen before in “advanced ashtanga”.

And hell if Dean Winchester was going to chicken out of anything that felt like a challenge.

“I’ll think about it,” Dean said, sticking a finger into the grain of the table for emphasis. “But only for the ‘roiders.”

Sam grinned, giving his brother a knowing look. “Sure.”

“Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t say yes, I said I’d think about it. God.”

 

 

***

One week and two trips to the local sporting goods store later, Dean and Sam waited outside one of FWF’s all purpose classrooms, decked out in simple work-out gear. These rooms looked more like dance studios than classrooms to Dean, but he tried to suppress that thought.

“Are we too early? I feel like we’re too early.”

Sam shrugged. Dean had a feeling his brother still hadn’t gotten over last night, when Dean had asked Sam if yoga pants were necessary for a yoga practice. Yes, of course, Sam had said. Why else would they call them yoga pants? Sam had struggled not to laugh as he watched Dean try on a few different lengths and brands of yoga pants; doing a few practice stretches and squats at Sam's request: "To see if the fabric is stretchy!" Sam snuck his phone out and managed to snap a few pictures on his phone of Dean checking out his own ass before Dean figured out what was going on.

After five minutes of the older Winchester yelling and chasing Sam around the store, and a very firm warning from the store’s staff, they had settled on just a pair of yoga mats. Green for Sam, gray for Dean. The two had just decided on normal athletic wear for the class.

“Dude, don’t worry. Class starts in five minutes. I’m sure we’re not too early. Let’s just go in.”

Dean nodded, following his brother into the room. A warm wave of scent hit Dean like a wall. He blinked in surprise, surveying the room. There were three rows of five mats set out, with people stretching out and setting up before class started. Dean recognized a few of them from the weight room in FWF. He exhaled, glad to see a few familiar faces. Floor to ceiling mirrors stretched around the room, covering two of the walls.

“What the fuck is that smell?” he whispered.

“Some people like to use oils to aid in relaxation.”

Dean groaned. “Great, our instructor’s a hippie.”  

The brothers moved close to the window, snagging two of the last open spots in the front of the room. There, on a mat perpendicular to all the other yoga mats, a dark-haired man sat with his legs crossed and his eyes closed. He wore a blue athletic shirt and what Dean could only describe as grey yoga capris. He wasn't moving. Definitely a hippie.

There was something intriguing about the curve of his mouth, and his bone structure looked as if a pair of sculptors had argued for days over how high to make his cheekbones, how square the jaw, how pronounced this man's chin would be. The result looked as if the sculptors had given up negotiating halfway through the process, and the finished product was the hottest yoga instructor Dean had ever seen.

Sam sat down next to Dean and began to stretch, reaching one leg out in front of him and bending forward to catch his toes, stretching his back. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Some people like to stretch before class starts, so their bodies warm up for the practice," Sam said quietly.

"Oh."

Dean rolled out his mat, frowning when he noticed it lay crooked next to Sam's. After a few irritating adjustments, he lowered himself into a plank pose on the mat. After a deep breath, he started pushing his body up and down, counting. One, two, three, four.

"Excuse me," Dean heard. He peered up from the bottom of his fifth push-up, ready to bite the head off of whoever had stopped him in the middle of a rep. His mind went blank when he looked up into the shockingly blue eyes of the man who must have been the instructor.      

The instructor cocked his head. "Why are you...doing that?"

Dean froze, his eyes flicking from his brother, who was obviously trying not to snicker,

to the instructor's concerned expression.

"Uh, yeah, just thought I'd warm up."

The instructor chuckled, a corner of his mouth turning up. Damn, that was nice.

"Good idea. It looks like they certainly got your blood moving."

Fuck it. Dean was blushing. He was going to kill Sam.

The instructor closed his eyes once more, returning to his meditation. His mouth still

betrayed the ghost of a smile, though.

Dean swatted at his brother, whose arms were busy tying his hair back into a stubby

ponytail. Dean decided to abandon his push-ups then, instead looking around and copying what some of the other people in the class were doing: mostly back and leg stretches. Legs stuck out in front of him so his body looked like an "L", he bent over at the hips, trying to touch his toes like the blonde girl next to him was doing.

"Fuck," Dean cussed. He could barely even reach his shins. He was worse off than he

had thought. Sam was right, his workout routine completely neglected any kind of flexibility.

"What?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Man, I am screwed. Is it too late to back out now?"

Just then, their instructor opened his eyes, looking around at the crowded classroom.

There was that smile again, just a subtle pull at the corner of his mouth.

“Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Castiel, and I am honored to be your yoga instructor today.”

Some people murmured “hello’s” and “afternoon’s” in response, Dean and Sam just

smiled and nodded. Too late to back out now.

“I’d like to take this moment to thank you for your presence here this afternoon, just as

your body thanks you for being here. So let’s all to take a moment now just to breathe, bringing your attention into this space. And then take a moment to pay attention to what your body is trying to tell you. If there are any sources of pain, any areas of weakness, just take this moment to check in with your body.”

Frowning, Dean took a deep breath, folding his legs and closing his eyes. Hmm, his hips felt a little tight. Other than that, everything felt like it was in pretty decent shape. He took a few more deep breaths, letting himself relax into the cross legged position. His eyelids drifted lower, lower. Just then, Castiel’s voice drifted over him, low, soft, and gruff.

“Okay. We’re going to start with a few sun salutations. This is an advanced class, so the majority of you will be familiar with Suryanamaskara.”

“Have you done those before?” Dean whispered to his brother. Sam nodded his head, returning his attention to their instructor. Dean gulped, wishing that they had set up their mats in the back of the room, instead of in the front-fucking row.

Castiel raised an eyebrow at Dean and Sam’s exchange. “For those of you who are unfamiliar with Suryanamaskara, don’t worry. We will go through the poses slowly the first time.”

For some reason, that didn’t make Dean feel any better.

Castiel tapped a button on his phone, and soft music began to play from the speakers in the corner of the classroom. Sitar, harp, chimes. It was hippie shit. And it was really, really nice.

Pushing himself to his knees and then his feet, Castiel walked the class through the string of poses.

“Inhale--Tadasana, mountain pose. Breathing deep, let your spine float up, pressing your palms together at your sternum.”

Okay, this didn’t suck. It was just standing. Dean watched the instructor carefully, hoping he was doing the pose correctly.

“On your next inhale, bend your knees, lower your hips, Utkatasana. This is otherwise known as chair pose. Extend your arms out in front of you ”

Ouch. That one was hard. His hamstrings burnt as his legs wobbled. Dean looked over at Sam, an eyebrow raised in consternation. Sam was pulling off the pose without visible struggle: where Dean’s legs wobbled Sam’s were strong, unmoving.

“Don’t worry if your legs wiggle a little bit,” Castiel said, executing the pose perfectly. “It’s just your body telling you you’re working.”

Dean took a shaky breath. Working. He could do that.

“Uttanasana, now. Forward fold, bend over. See if you can straighten your legs, letting your head hang. You can even sway your arms.”

Fuck. Dean still couldn’t touch his toes. He hung there, bent over at the hips. His back straining and the backs of his knees screaming at him to stop, stop, stop.

They moved through the rest of the poses, Dean struggling through almost every single one. He was able to easily do a couple of the stretches, one that was basically a modified plank-pushup thing and another that the instructor called upward facing dog. Thankfully, when he did these, his muscles didn’t shake, and he looked around to see that his classmates were doing about as well as he was with these particular poses.

Then they moved on to do a myriad of standing poses, warriors and dogs and back down to the floor and the pushups and the chair and mountain and Oh, that was starting to hurt. As they moved through the sequence a second time, Dean’s muscles began to quaver in exhaustion. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he struggled to remain in balance poses.

The instructor would leave his mat during these balance poses, correcting participants

and whispering advice near their ears. Dean nearly fell out of his Downward Dog, a pose he and Sam were both struggling a bit with. If he was being honest, Dean was doing much worse than his brother. It was a pose where your hands and feet were both on the mat, and your body (ideally) formed a right angle or “V” shape.

Castiel came up between the brothers, placing a hand on each of their backs. Dean struggled not to wince.  He wasn’t a big fan of people touching them while he was in the middle of...whatever this was.

“Try pedaling your feet, one and then the other. That’ll help you get your heels closer to the ground.” Both men were on their toes. Dean tried out the instructor’s advice, noting with surprise that his heels sunk closer and closer to the floor. It hurt, but he was getting closer to doing it correctly.

“Hey, thanks.” Dean whispered.

“No problem. Know that you can use your breath, as well. Breathe in, and then with

every exhale, sink deeper into the stretch.”   

Surprisingly, that worked too.

Castiel nodded, raising his voice for the rest of the class to hear. “Yoga is about maintaining your mental state, even when your body is tested. One of the ways that we can control that is with our breath. You’d be surprised at how effective regulating your breath can be.”

After another half hour of hurting and stretching muscles Dean wasn’t super aware that he had ever stretched before, Castiel had the class lay down on their backs for a final meditation to end the practice.

“This is called “Shavasana”, or corpse pose,” Castiel said, his voice soothing and slow. “In these last few minutes of our practice, just lay back and let your mind relax. If you feel your mind begin to wander, just focus on your breath again.”

Dean splayed out on his mat, his chest heaving. His arm and leg muscles still trembled from the hour of stretching, tremors he had no control over. And this guy wanted him to relax? He cracked an eyelid, peering over at his brother to see if Sam was having similar problems.

Sam had his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling naturally. He could have been asleep. Seeing his brother relaxing so comfortably, no sense of responsibility or tension in the lines of his face, all his defenses dropped, it reminded Dean of when they were kids. John would leave them alone a lot, and Dean always made sure Sam was asleep in whatever crappy hotel bed they were crashing in that week before he even thought about letting himself drift off to sleep. Dean sighed at the memory, letting all the breath escape from his body, leaving him empty. His eyes wandered the room for a moment before meeting the instructor’s gaze. Castiel was staring at him, his expression unreadable.

Fuck. He was supposed to have his eyes closed for this pose. He quickly slammed his eyes shut. Dean heard Castiel chuckle quietly. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The bastard had caught him with his eyes open. He couldn’t even do the dead body pose right.

But God, those eyes were shocking against the darkness of the classroom. Dean had a

hard time thinking about anything other than the yoga instructor’s eyes for the remainder of the meditation. No way he could focus on anything “breath control”. Dean’s breathing was nowhere near as interesting as those peepers.

Castiel’s voice cut through Dean’s musings.

“Bring your awareness back to your body, wiggling your fingers and toes, bringing sensation back into the body.”

Dean did it, feeling slightly foolish. He kept his eyes closed, hearing the cracking and shifting of his brother and the other people in the class stretching and .

“Then just work your way up to a sitting position, slowly if you can.”

Oops. He had heard the last bit only after he had shoved himself up, opening his eyes. Castiel had his eyes closed again, his shins stacked in a crossed-leg position that looked tougher than the simple version that Dean was in. Even though Castiel’s eyes were closed, Dean had a feeling the man had heard his abrupt movement. Dean sat there awkwardly as the rest of the class sat up gradually.

Castiel kept his eyes closed, but brought his hands together over his heart. He could have been praying. “That concludes our practice for today, and I look forward to seeing all of you again next week. Namaste.”

At that, the instructor bent at the waist, bowing. Dean saw the girl to his right mimic Castiel’s actions, and realized too late that he should have done the same.

Castiel opened his eyes, that soft smile returning to his lips. “Most of you probably already know this, but Namaste is a sanskrit word commonly used in Western yoga practices. It signifies a bowing, a mutual respect, between one person and another. It means, literally, that “the light and teacher in me bows to the light and teacher in you.”

Sam and Dean murmured Namaste then, both of them bowing at the waist.

“Thank you, and I’ll see you all again next week.”

Sam and Dean started rolling up their mats then, Dean hurrying despite his aching muscles. Ouch, ouch, fuck ow. His everything hurt, in a way he hadn’t thought possible. Dean knew he was fit, he was a goddamn personal trainer. But Castiel had put him through stretches and poses he had never had to do before in his life. And it fucking hurt.

Sam had rolled up his mat and was heading for the door, but the instructor waved Dean over to his mat. Dean looked over at his brother and bit his lip.

“I’ll meet you in the cafe, Sammy. Don’t wait up.”

Castiel blinked as Dean finished rolling up his mat, lifting it to balance it on one shoulder.

“What’s up, teach?”

“You seem very close with that other man,” Castiel said, beginning to pack up his stuff. In addition to an indigo yoga mat, he had brought a couple of styrofoam blocks and a few tiny oil bottles of what must have made the room smell like, well, an ashram.

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, Sam wanted to take this class, so I just signed up with him. I mean, we live together, but we haven’t been spending as much time together as we used to, so I figured, why the hell not?”

“Well, I’m glad you two found an activity that you can enjoy. I’ve instructed a few homosexual couples before, but…”

Dean blinked, narrowing his eyes. “Woah there, yogi bear. Sam is my brother.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows, his mouth opening in understanding. Damn, that was adorable too. “Ah, well, I’m sorry for making assumptions then.”

Dean chuckled. “I mean, I’ll go out with just about anybody, but even I draw the line at incest."

Oh fuck. Did he just make an incest joke...to their yoga teacher? Dean felt his cheeks grow warm, and knew he was blushing. Double fuck.

"Nice to hear that morality is alive and well. Anyway, I noticed you seemed to struggle through a couple of those poses. Is this your first yoga class?"

Dean grinned sheepishly. "That obvious?"

Castiel stuffed his oil bottles and blocks into a tan canvas backpack, slinging it onto his back with a huff. "Not as bad as you thought. You just need a bit of practice. Most of these people, including your brother if I'm right, have at least some experience with ashtanga. You can easily get to where they are."

Dean nodded. That made sense. It was the same kind of advice he gave his clients. Work to meet a goal. If you don’t work, and you don’t have a goal, you won’t make it.

Castiel pulled something out of his bag, passing it to Dean. It was a DVD case; on the cover was a cheerful looking older woman with her gray hair high up in a ponytail, dressed in the same brand of yoga pants Sam had tricked him into trying on. The title? Beginning Yoga for Seniors.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You've gotto be kidding me. Come on."

Castiel shook his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. "Look, I know. But it'll

help you catch up to where everyone else in the class is at. Just do it a couple of times before we meet up next week."

"Okay, fine."

The two left the classroom, Castiel locking the door behind them. They headed for the

FWF lobby.

"And I want that DVD back. I'm sure you'll want to watch it over and over again, but I

don't want to have to hunt you down over something like that."

Dean nodded. "Got it. No hunting. I work here, anyway. It's not like you'd have to hunt  

me very far."

Castiel's eyes lit up. "You work here?"

"Yeah. Here, let me give you my card," Dean said, fishing through his pocket for a business card. "In case you need to track me down."

"Dean Winchester. Well, it was very nice talking to you, Dean." Castiel said, reaching a

hand out. Dean shook it, noting the yoga instructor's strong but comfortable grip.

"Same to you. I'm gonna go take an Advil. I hurt everywhere."

"That's a good sign, Mr. Personal Trainer. You know that."

Castiel nodded as he left him in the lobby, making his way through the sliding glass

doors. Dean sighed, turning towards the cafe, where his brother was no doubt waiting with a congratulatory "good job making it through your first yoga sesh" smoothie. Dean wasn't much of a smoothie guy, but he could always just pretend it was a fruity milkshake. That kind of worked...sometimes.Even though every muscle in his body hurt, and he had just been handed a seniors-only except use tape to do as "homework", he felt...like he was working towards something.

"Whatd'ya think?" Sam asked, as Dean slid into the booth across from Sam at Salt ‘n Burn.

Dean let his head tip backwards against the back of the seat. "Well, I think you might make a hippie out of me yet."


End file.
